


static in blood

by voidofthestars



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Goretober 2018, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Knifeplay, M/M, Other, Painplay, Scars, jons back at it again being a dirty monster fucker, oh boy lets see, tyler back at it again with really pretentious titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidofthestars/pseuds/voidofthestars
Summary: spirals upon spirals, scars upon scars(aka: day two goretober with scars, and idk what day of kinktober with blood/pain/knife play)





	static in blood

**Author's Note:**

> ,,,,i cant believe i break my writers block with porn. and monster fucking of all things. and honestly, jon doesnt even get dicked me at me wtf.  
> but honestly shout out to iamalivenow on tumblr for being a great sounding block for all my tma fics, and for that this is for them.

Jon moaned and clenched the sheets tighter in his fists, arching back into the sharp and fiery pain. 

Michael laughed and laughed and used one of his seemingly endless hands to push Jon back flat onto the bed. Jon just turned his head back towards the being that rested both too heavily and yet just barely on the back of his thighs.

"Hold still archivist, we wouldn't want my hands to slip, would we? It'll ruin the picture. And if that happens I'll just have to start over somewhere else on you." It crooned, one needle-sharp finger dripping blood down down down into the drying and conjugated mess of blood that made up most of Jon's back. 

Jon groaned and ground his hips into the bed, every move sending lightening up his spine and through his nerves. Pain igniting endorphins triggering adrenaline inter-mixing with fear- all in all a heady rush that never failed to make him hard each and every time they played this game.

It all started the same way; an invitation left open-ended and a creaky old yellow door. It also generally ended the same way; Jon left tangled up in bloodied and cum stained sheets with Michael's twisting laughter in his ears and skittering down his extremities.

"Now now archivist, do not move." Michael's rattling voice seemed to echo throughout the entire room and yet pressed just into his ears as his razor sharp hands descended onto his skin once more, sending him farther into a spiral of pain and pleasure and fear. 

Time seemed to melt and it became hard for Jon to keep track of when and where his skin would be split open next let alone what patterns it was carving into him. What he did know was that he was getting closer and closer to the crest of that wave of sensations with every second and press of Michael's form against his.  

"One final touch to finish this bit off." It said, words both barely making it into Jon's hearing over the rushing sounds of his own pleasure and being seared directly into his head with a violent burst of static. Jon barely managed to repress a scream as Michael slowly, ever so slowly, slid his finger from where it had been dug somewhere in the vicinity of his right shoulder. 

Jon lay there panting, for a moment the only sound that of his own breath and the faint sound of static and broken glass that accompanied Michael's every visit. Michael seemed content to let the anticipation build for at least the moment. 

Then suddenly it's impossible and shifting form dropped across his entire self, pinning him between it and his bed. The resulting flare of both pain and that twisting electric static shock that came along with making contact with what constituted as Michael's skin shoved Jon right over the edge and had him cumming with a half-strangled scream, half caught in his throat and half smothered in the mattress as his vision whited out from the combination of pain, pleasure and whatever affect Michael had on him.

He must have blacked out for a few minutes because eventually when he opened his eyes again Michael was gone. John laid there for a few more minutes before mustering the energy to pry himself up off his filthy sheets, covered in a fun mix of cooling and coagulating blood and semen. Taking stock of himself, he found himself grinning slightly upon realizing Michael had 'convinced' his body into speeding up the healing process, leaving the new marks scabbed over. (Michael, the only time he had ever really asked about it, had laughed and said something about not wanting his favorite archivist bleeding out before he was ready to give him up. Favorite hadn't exactly sounded like a good thing at the time and quite frankly still really didn't) 

Rolling over and pushing himself up onto shaky legs pulled at the scabs, and he groaned softly at the feeling of some tearing open again. His groan turned into a laugh midway through at the sight of yet another tiny spiral carved into his bedroom wall; a calling card, goodbye and a promise to return all mixed into one. He let his eyes wander idly over the various others scattered across the rest of his room as he made his way slowly to the en-suite bathroom to see what Michael had added this time. 

It didn't take much turning in the mirror for Jon to see the massive spiraling twisting scarred mess his back was slowly becoming. The movement sent faint twinges of pain snaking through him, his dick giving a valiant twitch ay the feeling.

Giving a pleased hum at the sensation, Jon couldn't help but be idly excited by the thought of what the final product would be and wondered when Michael would visit again. As he turned to finish cleaning up he could have sworn he'd seen fractals reflecting in the mirror. 

**Author's Note:**

> bother me on tumblr if you want im at currently: spookystarfield


End file.
